Master of Lust

Chapter 131: Olivia and Greg

Chapter - 131

Olivia remained utterly still, frozen in place, as Rick's lips made contact with hers. The unexpected kiss left her eyes widened in a mixture of surprise, shock, and uncertainty, casting a fog over her already scattered thoughts. The world surrounding her blurred into insignificance as Rick persisted in his unexpected advance, catching her completely off guard.

The undeniable warmth of his lips against hers sent a palpable jolt through her senses.

Her mind swarmed with screaming voices spelling out Push him away! But she didn't. She didn't want to. It didn't matter that their deal extended this flirtation for just one night. It didn't matter that what they were doing was wrong. Because even if it was wrong, it didn't feel like it.

His soft lips on hers felt right. So so right.

So Olivia just stood there, with her hands gripping the counter behind her. Her fingers pressed hard into the chipped wood, and she forced them to remain there. She knew if her hands were free, they would have a mind of their own and roam Rick's hard chest. She wanted to feel the roughness of his stubble under her fingertips, the soft hair on his nape and his firm biceps. But no. None of that.

She wouldn't let herself get carried away. This was the last kiss she would allow. The last touch.

It was over all too soon. Rick pulled back as they both caught their breaths. His lips were red, and his cheeks were flushed a light pink. Olivia knew her condition wasn't all that different. The room spun, a whirlwind of conflicting emotions engulfing her. The taste of him lingered on her lips, a sensation that left her both exhilarated and terrified.

Rick, however, seemed unfazed by the storm he had unleashed. A sly grin played on his lips as he teased, "Well, Mrs Clarke, that's one way to start the day, don't you think?"

Olivia, still catching her breath, shot him a disapproving look. "Rick, we shouldn't have—"

Before Olivia could complete her sentence, Rick leaned in once more, his eyes radiating a hunger that sent shivers down her spine. The charged atmosphere crackled as their lips were on the verge of meeting again, only to be interrupted by a sudden noise – a loud groan echoing from the hall, shattering the intimate moment.

Startled, Olivia swiftly pushed Rick away. Her hands fumbled to readjust her disheveled clothes, panic and guilt evident in her eyes. A warning glance was shot in Rick's direction as she turned on her heels, hastily making her way out of the kitchen, leaving him behind in the wake of their interrupted connection.

Outside, Greg held his head, cursing in pain. As he saw Olivia approaching, a frown creased his forehead. The confusion in his eyes was evident as he took in her flustered appearance. Tension enshrouded the thick air as Olivia and Greg locked eyes.

Meanwhile, Rick was left alone in the kitchen, the shock of Olivia's glare and hostility still haunting him. A myriad of emotions crossed his face—confusion, anger, desire, and perhaps a tinge of regret. He ran a hand through his hair, contemplating the consequences of his impulsive actions.

Greg rubbed his temples, trying to alleviate the pounding headache that throbbed behind his eyes. His gaze bore into Olivia, a mix of surprise and irritation evident in his voice as he inquired, "When did you get back?"

"You fucking, good-for-nothing, stoned loser. Why did I ever marry you? Emily is in the hospital right now, and look at you. Drugged out of your mind, reeking of cheap booze and half unconscious. You absolute pig."

"Mind your fucking words, bitch!" Greg tried to stand, but his knees gave out, and he fell back onto the couch.

Olivia's laughter rang through the room, devoid of joy, carrying instead a sharp, cruel edge. "You, you fat imbecile," she sneered, her contempt dripping from every word.

"To think I should ever be afraid of you. You're nothing but a weak, pitiful mess, Greg. It was sheer luck on your part and my sheer will that held this family together for so long. I thought... I thought..." Her voice faltered as she reminisced about the countless moments she clung to the hope that Greg would become better.

She had envisioned a future where he might not be a good husband, but at least a decent father. Day after day, she nurtured that fragile hope, desperately wishing for a positive change. Yet, it was a hope she could no longer bear to carry. The weight of disappointment had finally crushed it.

"Wait till I get my hands on you, Olivia. I promise it won't be pretty," Greg growled menacingly.

But Olivia, undeterred, emitted a disbelieving scoff. "I'm done with you and your empty threats, Greg. Screw you."

Olivia found herself catching her breath, exhaustion washing over her as the heated argument with Greg finally subsided. This relentless back-and-forth was precisely why she dreaded conflicts with him. The emotional toll left her drained, making it challenging to regather her composure afterward.

With Emily in the hospital, looming bills casting a shadow over her, and the added complexity of the situation with Rick, Olivia yearned for nothing more than to cocoon herself in a blanket, seeking solace in the escape of sleep.

What proved most frustrating was Greg's failure to grasp that Olivia had reached a point where his hollow threats held no sway.

How he would bash her skull in or how he would throw her out of their house to teach her a lesson, or how she was supposed to be the pliant wife and listen to everything he said and bear everything he did.

In the heart of the tumultuous exchange between Greg and Olivia, Rick found himself ensconced in the kitchen, keenly attuned to the escalating tension that crackled in the air. Each uttered word seemed to add fuel to the fiery animosity between the two, and Rick couldn't help but absorb the palpable hostility that hung in the atmosphere.

Once Greg's threats turned more and more violent, he couldn't stand back as a spectator anymore. Shouts and accusations continued to echo in the hall when he walked in and made his presence known.

He took both Olivia and Greg by surprise. The room fell into a momentary hush.

Greg, with a scrunched nose, finally managed to collect the words. In that charged moment, a question pierced the uneasy silence. "What the heck are you doing in my house?" Greg demanded, his tone a mix of confusion and frustration.

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